


Mantra

by Anyawen



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 007 Fest 2020, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Hit man, Spectre - Freeform, job offer, rethinking a life of crime, team00
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyawen/pseuds/Anyawen
Summary: He repeats the words over and over, trying to convince himself. It doesn't work, and that's okay. It's probably better this way.
Relationships: Jaws/Dolly
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Mantra

**Author's Note:**

> Fills the 2020 007 fest classic table prompt 'Jaws with Craig!Bond characters' and the trope table prompt 'it's good to be bad' - and completes both tables! Woot!
> 
> Thanks to Ven for seeing a brilliant connection between the two prompts I had left to fill on those two tables.

Wiping the last of the shaving foam from his face, he stared at himself in the mirror.

His reflection showed him a large man. Broad and powerful. He smiled. His reflection smiled back at him, teeth gleaming a dull silver.

“It’s good to be bad,” he thought to himself. “It’s good to be bad.”

He repeated the mantra as he got dressed, hearing Dolly in the kitchen making breakfast.

She was a good woman. Deserved a good life.

A better life than he’d been providing for her. For them.

“It’s good to be bad,” he thought again, opening the folder on the desk.

It had been delivered last night. The courier had been a short older man with light, greying hair, brown eyes that were lively, but not warm, and a nice smile. Nicer than his, yes —but whose wasn’t?— and oddly creepier, too.

“It’ll be nice to work with you, Mr Jaws,” the courier had said before leaving.

He hadn’t responded. He never responded, and they always took it as agreement. Which was fair, he supposed, since he usually meant it that way.

But things had been different since the space station. Since learning that his former boss’ idea of people worth saving did not include him. Or Dolly.

And the realization that if he was expendable to one of the masterminds he’d worked for, chances were the others had felt the same. He was the muscle, and the teeth, but if he was thought of at all outside his usefulness as a weapon, it was negatively.

“It’s good to be bad.”

Is it, though? Is it, really?

It had been. For a while. Lucrative, certainly. But there were always people looking for him. Looking to hire him, or looking to kill him.

The courier’s boss —was he a courier? or doing his own legwork?— wanted to hire him to kill a man. Would hardly be the first man he’d killed. And the contract offered a generous payment. He could use the money to disappear with Dolly.

But someone would come looking. To hire him. Or to kill him.

Or to hire him then kill him.

“It’s good to be bad.”

A hand reached over his shoulder, drawing the photo of his intended target out of the clip that held it in the file.

A mop of dark hair. Warm hazel eyes alight with mischief and intelligence clearly visible through his glasses. Unfortunately tragic fashion sense.

He watched Dolly slide the photo away to study it, and turned his eyes back to the file that had been delivered.

The photo was of the Quartermaster of MI6. Dangerous enough to be taken out in his own right, but this particular job was based on his connection to Agent 007.

He paused, finger under the designation on the page. He knew that number. Knew the man it belonged to. He’d been tasked with killing him before, more than once, but in the end, when it became clear that he was trying to stop Drax from murdering people who didn’t fit his idea of a master race —people like himself and Dolly— he’d ended up helping him instead.

The man had been good.

“It’s good to be good,” he thought, as Dolly’s hand closed over his, still pointing at the number on the page.

He closed the file. He had a new mantra.


End file.
